


Panic

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: The reader has an anxiety attack.





	Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Anxiety comes in all shapes and sizes, and anxiety attacks are different for each person. This is sort of based on my mind when I have attacks. It was therapeutic to write, and perhaps will help others out there with similar thoughts and feelings. My anxiety is much more under control in the recent years, but it was pretty bad when I was younger. If you ever want to talk, please message me! I’m happy to chat with anyone who needs it.

You turned the page of the book you were reading, sliding further down in the armchair you were curled up in.

You, Sam, and Dean were sitting in the library of the bunker, in between cases. It was a nice feeling, not having to do research or worrying about the others while on a case without you. You had brought out a book it was taking you months to finish, Sam was entertaining himself with old Men of Letters records, and Dean was doing Chuck-knows-what on his laptop.

You weren’t completely consumed by your book; it had been so long since the last time you had read it. You didn’t want to have to go back and re-read the previous chapters, so you sighed and glanced around the room.

It was weird to think that you, Sam, and Dean felt like you belonged here in the bunker. They were legacies through their grandfather, and you had found out that you were a legacy through your great-grandfather. 

The boys had found you on a hunt, after a wendigo had killed your parents. After they died, you were tasked with going through their house, and had come across an old chest in the attic, full of things you thought were written from your great-grandfather’s imagination. Soon enough, Sam and Dean had come into town, and you discovered that Gramps wasn’t crazy, but actually a member of the secret society.

Not having any other family, you joined Sam and Dean on their wendigo hunt and their travels back to the bunker. You weren’t much help immediately, but more recently began joining them on hunts to help with research and learn about your family legacy. 

Like Sam, you did better with research than actual hunting – your anxiety and agoraphobia made you uncomfortable in long car rides or unfamiliar places. Your anxiety attacks were getting better, especially now that you knew to expect the unexpected, but every once and a while one would arise again. You couldn’t even think to imagine what would happen if an anxiety attack occurred in the middle of a fight – you couldn’t make yourself that vulnerable around the boys. They worried about you enough.

Thinking about your life like this was a sure way to _never_ get into the book in your lap. You closed it, and stared off into space, lost in thought.

_I wonder if Gramps ever visited this bunker…I wonder if he sat in this chair…it’s weird that he may have been here, a hundred years earlier…That would be weird, with how big of a world this is, and how we are only two people, separated by generations…_

_In the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty insignificant…Gramps was probably much better at this Men of Letters thing than me…Why am I here? The world is so big out there…but then again, the earth is one tiny thing in this huge universe… I’m so small compared to all of space… Why do I even matter? There are things out there in the universe that are so – so big!_

Your thought process was not going in a good direction. Your mind began to panic, terrified of the insignificance of your life. Your mind panicking was causing your breathing to increase, your heart rate to speed up.

You had started having an anxiety attack, all because of your own thoughts.

Not wanting to worry Sam or Dean (because neither of them had actually _seen_ you having an attack), you stood. The movement made you realize how far along your attack had gotten – everything was going in slow motion, but too fast, all at the same time. You felt enormous as you stood up, it was as if you never were going to get to your full height.

The book you had been reading fell to the floor, sounding (what seemed to you) a huge crash. You stared at it, terrified of the sudden sound, just waiting for something bad to happen because of its fall. _This is ridiculous_ , you thought to yourself, but that thought couldn’t calm you down. 

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you panicked again. You couldn’t stop the tears – they just started pouring. You felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest, and you couldn’t slow your breathing down. You sank to your knees, hands rising in slow motion – no, rising too quickly – toward your face. You looked at your fingers through your tears – they were longer than normal, right? – no, your hands seemed tiny all of a sudden.

In slow motion, you looked up to see Sam kneeling in front of you. His mouth was moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding in your ears. You shook your head at him, crawling backwards on the ground. _He’s scary, he’s big_. He was the reason why you knew all the horrible things you knew.

 _No_ – Sam was your friend. He would protect you. You stopped crawling backwards and launched (too fast, too fast) into his arms. You buried your face in his chest for a moment, enough time for him to wrap his arms around you, and breathed. _Too much air_ , you were about to burst.

Sam’s arms were around you, you couldn’t move. _Can’t move, can’t move_.

With all the energy you had (more than you thought), you broke out of Sam’s hold, out of the trap his arms had become. You stood and ran to the other side of the room, facing a corner between the brick wall and a bookshelf.

Nothing could help you now. _Just breathe…In…Out…_ You tried slowing your breathing now, but once you did, you were suffocating. _Breathe faster, faster!_ You started hyperventilating.

Your nails scratched at the wall and bookcase in front of you, trying to get a hold of something real. You turned suddenly, terrified of what could be happening behind your back – your unguarded back.

As you turned, you saw Sam and Dean standing together, watching you carefully. _Freak, freak_ , your brain screamed at you, and you just knew those thoughts were coming from the boys, you were somehow suddenly telepathic. The thoughts caused you to release another huge sob, you were so sad that they thought of you that way.

Dean took a step forward, but Sam put a hand on his arm to stop him. Dean looked at Sam’s hand, shaking it off. 

You slid down the wall into a sitting position, hands held in front of you shaking. Shaking so fast that they were blurry, but then you blinked and they were shaking in slow motion. You were staring so hard at your hands that you didn’t notice Dean until he was directly in front of you, sitting cross-legged.

Your wide eyes looked at him, panicked. Slowly, as if there wasn’t actually any movement happening, Dean reached a hand out to hold one of yours. He turned your hand, palm up, as you watched. Your hand was so heavy all of a sudden. Too heavy – you couldn’t hold it up by yourself any longer.

Dean brought his other hand over, using his pointer finger to trace patterns along your palm.

Your hand was on fire. He was doing magic or something, you tried to pull it free. It was stuck, you couldn’t get away. Dean lightly ran all four of his fingertips from the palm of your hand down your fingers, very slowly.

Your fingers never ended, they were the longest they had ever been. Your eyes followed the motion of his hand as he repeated the strokes.

Your heart rate slowed, matching Dean’s touches.

He switched hands. As he let go of the one he had been paying attention to, it floated into the air, suddenly light and happy.

The other hand got the same treatment – patterns traced, this time not on fire, but still warm. Feather-light touches down your palm and fingers.

Your breathing slowed, matched Dean’s touches.

He let go of your hand, and it floated away as well.

You looked at your hands once again, this time through almost dry eyes. Your heart rate had slowed, your breathing was steady.

You looked up at Dean, who was cross-legged still, hands on each knee, watching you. He gave you a small smile.

“Okay?”

You mentally assessed your body and mind to determine if the sudden anxiety attack was over. You nodded.

You slowly matched Dean’s body position, crossing your legs and putting your hands on your knees. You took a few deep breaths in and out, just to make sure. You noticed that Dean breathed with you, watching you closely.

When you were sure it was truly over, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck in a hug. “Thank you,” you whispered, grateful for his calming help. He wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing gently.

You fell back on to your bottom, giving Dean a small smile.

Seeing Sam over his shoulder, you remembered Sam’s part in your attack. “Sam, I’m so sorry,” you spoke quietly, afraid that any loud talking would throw you right back in.

Sam very slowly moved toward you and Dean, before joining you on the floor. He grabbed your hand closest to him, and squeezed gently. “You have no need to apologize, Y/N.”

The three of you sat quietly on the floor for a few more minutes, before Sam got up to go back to his reading. Dean stood afterwards, offering his hands to help you up. You accepted, and Dean lifted you to your feet. Without speaking, he kept one hand in yours and wrapped the other around your waist, guiding you toward your room. He waited outside the bathroom as you changed and got ready for bed, and he tucked you in. 

You didn’t even have to ask him to stay, as he laid himself on top of the covers next to you, kissing your forehead and whispering in your ear, “I’m not going anywhere, just sleep now.”

Your mind at peace, you slipped into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
